


Yesterday, I was drowning (Today, I'm Home)

by Hyaluronic



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Blood and Violence, Explicit Language, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Nicky | Nicolo di Genova, Late Teens James Copley, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Threats of Violence, Tween Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Twenty-something Booker | Sebastian le Livre, Unethical Experimentation, especially against minors, immortal James Copley
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:19:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29513793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyaluronic/pseuds/Hyaluronic
Summary: “Go to… hell” He hissed, hands curling against the pain of his skin being pushed apart and held open by something cold and hard. He blinked when he felt his eyes start to itch against the burn of tears pooling at the corner of his eyes and tried his hardest not to think of Nicky and Joe being torn apart and dissected by the same hands working a metal instrument into his chest.“Hopefully, if all goes well.” Kozak murmured, taking scissors and snipping away at something that had him screaming. “Not before you.”Or:Kozak made some headway with her immortality serum, only it has a rather odd side effect...
Relationships: Booker | Sebastian le Livre & James Copley, Booker | Sebastien le Livre & Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Booker | Sebastien le Livre & Nicky | Nicolo di Genova, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Pre - Booker | Sebastien le Livre/James Copley
Comments: 23
Kudos: 62





	1. Oh, Father tell me, do we get what we deserve?

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this was actually supposed to be the last chapter of my Whumptober one shot series but the thing took on a life of its own and kept growing. I'm currently about 8k in and still not near where I see this fic ending, so I am posting this as its own fic. 
> 
> So, basically, my brain thought _’Hey, what if instead of Quynh waiting for Booker at his apartment - it was Kozak. And, what if she had made some progress with her immortality serum, only instead of creating longevity it ended up being something else?’_ And then my brain went, _’Hey-yo, let’s redeem Booker, too!! Because 100 years for someone with the self-destructive tendencies of Booker is just stupid and dumb, and in this house we believe mental health matters!’_
> 
> And thus, what follows is Booker working through a few things while having to get teeny tiny versions of Nicky and Joe with the help of Copley out of the current mess they're in.
> 
> There is some depiction of medical torture but I don't think I describe anything to explicit and gory? If I do need to add a tag please let me know!

It had at least been six months; and the only reason he knew that was because the apartment he had been subletting to the cutest little American Couple had been pissed when he’d shown up half-way through their lease and told them to beat it. After that, the days had started to blur together, the apartment had deteriorated to resemble one of Andy’s safehouses, beer bottles piled up in corners of the room when flat surfaces had become too cluttered to handle anymore, takeaway containers left forgotten on chairs and counters - some even shoved under furniture, left to rot - while his clothing was strewn across the floor and left to mix with the various newspapers he’d collected to try and keep track of any possible sightings of his _family_. Not that he cared what they did; and he had to remind himself he couldn’t care - not for another 99 and half more years.

Booker huffed a melancholic laugh and tipped the beer bottle back, draining the last few dregs before twisting the top of another and flicking the metal cap to land somewhere in the grass. He shoved the door open to the building that housed his apartment and hissed when, in his drunken stupor, the bottle slipped from his shaky grasp to shatter on the floor below, foam splattering his shoes. He stumbled his way to the stairs that led to the upper floors and landed hard with a heavy sigh, moving to grab another bottle from the six pack when he noticed the door to his apartment was slightly ajar, enough that any other person wouldn’t have noticed until they were right up on it. 

Booker grabbed his gun from the waistband of his jeans, hands trembling from adrenaline or alcohol - or maybe a little bit of both - as he pushed the door open and swung his gun up to land on a blonde woman wearing a fluffy sweater and a pair of khaki slacks, a smile that was all teeth gracing her angular features while she stood by the kitchen sink with her hands clasped in seeming innocence in front of her. 

“Mr. Booker, was it? How wonderful to see you arrive home safely.” 

“How’d you find me?” He croaked, voice rough and unsteady. “I hid my trail, used a safe house unknown to Merrick and his cronies.” 

“Merrick had eyes everywhere, Mr. Booker.” Kozak said simply, her gaze flitting about to the corners of his apartment. He twitched wanting to shadow her movement but not wanting to take his eyes off her. 

“And,” Kozak continued, taking a small step forward, “with his unfortunate and untimely passing someone had to step up to fulfill the role as head of the company. And while Merrick was a visionary, he only sought profit and fame. I seek nothing of the sort. My goal is to further science and I believe that is only achievable by discovering what makes the whole lot of you tick and unfortunately-or fortunately, I suppose- for that, I need you.” 

“Well, sorry to disappoint but that ain’t happening.” Booker made to shoot her when a shadow caught his attention out of his periphery. With a grunt, he dodged to the left, bringing his hand up to knock the needle out of the unknown person's hands. He kicked out with his foot to try and knock the person off balance but instead stumbled backwards when the room started spinning and his stomach sloshed from the sudden motion. He felt his throat tighten and burn as he swallowed against the overpowering need to expel his stomach. 

Booker planted a hand against the back of the desk chair beside him and swung the gun up to fire at the intruder when a sudden and jarring pain to his side stopped him with a cry. He grit his teeth and looked down towards his hip. He blinked bleary eyes and tried to focus on the dart sticking out of him, he forced himself to move, even though it felt like his body was wading through water, to pull the small projectile out. 

Booker blinked dumbly at the object, his already addled comprehension from his drunken stupor exaggerated by whatever had been in the dart. He blinked again and realized he was now staring up at the ceiling, confusion wrinkling his forehead as he stared at the ceiling fan spinning lazily above. He went to stand but found himself unable to. He groaned and licked his lips when he realized how dry his mouth seemed, his head rolling to the side to see the very pleased face of Kozak towering a few feet away from him. 

“Sweet dreams, Mr. Booker.” 

Booker tried to force his eyes to stay open, strained his muscles to keep his sights on Kozak but the world was darkening around him, his mind betraying him, and with one last blink _nothing_. 

O~oO~o~oO~O 

When consciousness next returned to him, the first thing he noticed was how cold he was. An unwelcoming frigidness that seemed to have settled deep into his bones; reminding him of the days- _weeks_ he’d been left strung up in the Russian winter with the other deserters, left as nothing more than vittals for the scavenging animals brave enough to face the bitter cold to feast on the corpses left in the wake of the war. 

He shivered and shook as he tugged at his arms, unsurprised when buckled straps dug into his wrists and chest as he struggled to move, his lethargic muscles straining against his bonds but doing nothing but irritating the skin beneath the rough black straps of fabric. 

Booker cleared his throat and took in his surroundings. White washed stone walls made up the basis of his prison, a set of cabinets attached to the wall hovered over a counter with a sink to his left, a solid metal door with no visible hinges was situated a few feet in front of him, and to his right was an IV pole and various medical equipment that he could only guess as to the purpose of; the whole room reeked of antiseptic and medicine. 

With a sigh of resignation, Booker closed his eyes and shook his head. This had been what he'd wanted… _right?_ An out for when everything became too much and the weight of continuing to exist in this shitty world had worn him down to the point of overwhelming exhaustion. 

_This had been what he wanted…_

Jean-Pierre’s angry face flashed briefly against the back of his closed lids. Tears framing his son's irate face as his baby boy demanded answers to the questions he didn’t know. 

_It was supposed to be a gift_ Booker thought, squeezing his eyes tight to banish the image of his son. 

It was supposed to be a way to help those who deserved a chance to continue to live their life while giving him an end to his. His life was not worth more than the sum of those more deserving, Copley’s wife a case in point. The woman had been a neurologist on the cusp of a breakthrough for Alzheimer’s before her body began to betray her and stole away everything. 

He laughed bitterly, a hollow sounding thing, as he recalled Copley and his conversation over their shared losses. Brothers in grief as they conspired against the only family he had left. The only family that gave a shit about him and he’d used them as a means to an end for his sorrow. 

God, he was such a damned fool. He swore he’d find a way to make it right and he had 99 and a half years to find a way to do so. 

The creek of the metal door had him blinking his eyes open to see a set of blank faced medical personnel entering followed by Doctor Kozak, the heels of her shoes clicking ominously against the tiled floor. 

“Good morning, Mr. Booker.” 

Booker strained against the straps to watch Kozak grab a clipboard from the foot of his bed, her hands flipping through various pages before sighing. 

“I need to take samples today, it appears as though the ones we have on file for you were contaminated beyond our medical capabilities to restore.” She explained nonchalantly, resetting the clipboard against the end of the bed. “I would advise you to relax, Mr. Booker, the more you strain the harder it will be to extract what I will need and the longer it will take.” 

Booker watched as the woman nodded off to her right. He rolled his head to his left to see one of the no named medical staff plunge a needle into his shoulder. He hissed against the burn of whatever they had given him. Hating the way his body began to sag under the forced lassitude of the medication. He blinked and strained to keep the ceiling above him in focus, the slates of the ventilation system blurring to a darkened blob of unrecognizable color. 

“I’m afraid that medication will only help with anxiety. I cannot give you anything for the pain.” Kozak explained, her gloved hands coming up to rest against his bare chest - explained why he was so damned cold - and poked at his sternum before swabbing a cotton ball over the skin of his chest. “I’ve learned from your _brothers_ that pain medication,” Booker grit his teeth when he felt the cool touch of a scalpel split the skin right below his rib cage, “that anesthesia corrupts the data I need.” 

“Go to… hell” He hissed, hands curling against the pain of his skin being pushed apart and held open by something cold and hard. He blinked when he felt his eyes start to itch against the burn of tears pooling at the corner of his eyes and tried his hardest not to think of Nicky and Joe being torn apart and dissected by the same hands working a metal instrument into his chest. 

“Hopefully, if all goes well.” Kozak murmured, taking scissors and snipping away at something that had him screaming. “Not before you.” 

Booker puffed his cheeks, breaths coming harsh and fast when Kozak brushed gloved fingers against the edges of his split skin, hating the way the woman’s eyes shined in amazement when whatever she had taken from him started to regrow, the faint itch of his body healing shooting pins and needles through him. 

“Remarkable.” Kozak whispered, reaching to grab a vial from one of the medical staff and placing a small snip of something red into the clear container. 

“Your brother thought me to be immorale.” She explained reaching for a long needle looking object with a tiny clasp on the end. “Thought my efforts to be misguided.” 

She had to be talking about Nicky, the man was too damned understanding for his own good to those who thought themselves noble in the pursuit of knowledge. “And then we… _nnnng_...set fire to y-your scie _nnnn_ …shit!” 

Kozak held up a tiny pin prick of something meaty looking before placing it in another proffered vial. “Tell me, how long does the pain last after your body has healed?” 

Booker bit his tongue, trying to ignore the way he could feel the fibrous tissue of _something_ start the arduous process of knitting itself back together. The faint notion that Nicky and Joe had gone through this same ordeal _for days_ while he was dicking around and emailing Copley about how best to capture the rest of them had him tearing up from something other than the sharp pang he felt from Kozak rooting around in his chest cavity. 

A gurgle of fluid surged up his throat and flooded mouth seconds after Kozak snipped and pulled. Booker gurgled, gasped and gagged for air, doing his best to stay aware of his surroundings but he couldn’t breathe! He jerked against his bindings, fighting for air even as the world around him dimmed. 

He struggled one last time before everything faded. 

_This was what he’d wanted…._

 _Right?_


	2. We Get What We Deserve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Days of endless torture at the hands of Kozak lead to some pretty amazing outcomes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone! The plot finally starts moving right along with this chapter with Booker starting to meet the other people Kozak has captive along with him and him starting to plan on how to escape. 
> 
> I did give this a once over again this morning before posting but if you notice anything wonky or see something I need to tag that I haven't please dont hesitate to leave a comment and let me know! :)

Days passed.

Countless days that saw much of the same torture. Kozak would enter with her cronies, pick a new section of his body to analyze and take apart, even going so far as to saw off a toe on a particularly bad day when he got a little too mouthy about her origins and what her mother may or may not have fornicated with. 

He had spit curses at her in between his screams of agony and the utter pain of having to regrow random organs and body parts. During one particularly horrid session, where Kozak had decided to peel his skin back layer by agonizing layer to see where exactly the healing started first, she had become so tired of the sound of his screams and shrieks that she’d gagged him to silence his cries and then left him to wallow in his own suffering and self-pity as his skin finished closing. 

Booker swallowed thickly around the orange rubber probe of the medical gag protruding into his mouth and stilling his tongue. He half-heartedly tugged at his bindings once more, tears blurring his vision before spilling over and trailing down his face to soak the pillow beneath his head. He kept his gaze focused on the slates of the ventilation shaft above him, trying to calm himself and breathe slowly and purposefully through his nose, afraid if he couldn’t get a handle on his emotions he’d end up choking to death from a stuffed up nose. Not a particular experience he’d wanted to repeat. 

“And how are we faring today, Mr. Booker?” 

He hated himself for the way he flinched from just the sound of the damned woman’s voice. He rolled his head to the side to see that she was by herself today, no helper assholes to hand her tools, take pictures, or videos of his miraculous healing. He wasn’t sure if he should be concerned or grateful for that; but, he could take a guess that the side eye he was currently bestowing on her was probably going to be warranted in the near future. 

“Don’t worry, I have gathered everything I need from you for the moment.” Kozak explained, reaching for the IV port in his hand. “Today is a day of trial and error.” 

Booker tried to jerk his hand from her grasp only to wind up with a broken finger when Kozak got tired of fiddling with him. He leaned as far to the side as his bonds would let him and huffed through the pain of bone grinding against bone as his pinky straightened itself out. 

“Behave.” She admonished and dispensed a vile looking orange liquid into the port of his IV and then stepped back. She looked at her watch before glancing back at him. 

He was confused for just a second, unsure what she was waiting for when a sudden and all consuming fire roared up his arm, the flames of the medication licking at his nerve endings and ravaging his muscles. He screamed as something in his chest shifted, his bones grinding against themselves, his muscles seizing on him, his arms and legs trying to curl in on themselves, like a spider in its death throes, but unable to because of the straps holding him down. 

Booker slammed his head back against his pillow, the tendons of his neck rippling as another scream tore itself from his lungs only to be muffled by the gag. Booker choked and jerked, his body trembling in fervor, muscles trying and failing to draw in air, to ease the burning ache squeezing the breath from his lungs. 

He looked helplessly towards Kozak, watching as she pursed her lips, her dark eyes shining obsidian in the artificial light - reminding him of something demonic, like one of the monsters from the biblical Sunday stories he’d used to tell his kids. He blinked, the harsh light of the room starbursting around him, the pain reaching a crescendo before the world around him spiralled into a sweet blessed nothingness. 

O~oO~o~Oo~O 

When he came back to his senses, he noticed Kozak had left him to hopefully crawl back into whatever hellhole she’d clawed her way out of; and a soft metallic scraping sound had caught his attention. Booker opened his eyes to see a tiny face staring at him from the opening of the ventilation duct. 

_The...hell?_ He thought, eyes already falling closed in exhaustion, his consciousness slipping away once more. 

The sound of a dull thud jolted him awake seconds later and sent his heart racing in a panic, he turned his attention from the ceiling to his bedside where a mop of blonde curls was shielding the face of some small chubby cheeked kid. The kid’s tiny hands released the strap around his left wrist and chest before moving down to work at the bindings on his ankles. 

He tried to catch the kids attention but any sound was muffled by the gag still on him. The unknown kid looked up at him with wide eyes, stubby fingers stopping in their efforts to loosen the straps as the kid shrunk back, seemingly afraid. 

Booker winced, hating that he apparently scared the little guy, and quickly freed his other hand before unbuckling the horrendous orange gag and throwing it in disgust to the tiled floor. 

“Thank you.” He whispered, trying his best to smile encouragingly at the little tike at the foot of his bed. 

The kid nodded and unbuckled the last strap before moving off to the side of his bed. “I heard you screaming…” 

Booker slid off the table, shaky hands clutching at the thin sheet to keep some of his dignity and to keep from scarring the poor kid. “I bet that was r-really scary, huh?” 

Glossy green eyes looked up worriedly from where the kid was wringing his hands, “I was worried she’d killed you, wasn’t sure if you would wake up this time.” 

“I’m made of pretty hardy stock, kiddo.” Booker reassured, looking down to tie the sheet off at his waist but stopped when he noticed the state of his hands. He gaped at the backs of his hands, the normally wrinkled skin now smooth and even; gone were the callouses from his training for the war and the hard labor from his time in prison. The few age spots he’d received during his time in the army had also seemingly vanished. 

“Putain de merde.” He whispered in astonishment, turning his hands over a few times to stare in wonder. The sound of giggles from the kid made him look up. 

“That is a bad word.” 

Booker looked up surprised. “You speak French?” 

The kid shrunk back as if he’d done something wrong. “Hey, no, it’s okay. You’re not in trouble, you just surprised me is all.” 

“I speak many tongues but they make Kozak mad.” The blonde boy explained, making his way to sit on the bed. “She doesn’t like it when I remember things from before.” 

“From before?” 

The kid bobbed his head, “She wants to know a great many things about us but her-” 

Booker brought a hand up to silence the kid, an uneasy feeling slithering down his spine to curl nauseously tight around his stomach. There was no way God would be so cold-hearted as to bestow the gift of never ending life to a child, surely he’d misheard? “ _Us?_ ” 

He watched the tiny tike bite his lip and lower his gaze to the floor. Now that he could get a good look at the kid, he realized the youngster couldn’t be more than 6 maybe 7, definitely no older than 8. The kids' cheeks were still puffy from baby fat, for heaven’s sake! _Jesus, he was going to kill Kozak_. A sniffle resounded from behind the safety of those little blonde curls and had him moving to kneel down on the floor in front of the boy, bringing his hands up to rest against the kids knees. “ _I won’t be mad, I am just trying to understand, yes?_ ” 

The kid looked up at the French with a watery smile, his tiny hands resting on top of Booker’s larger ones. “Promise not to be upset?” 

Booker slipped a hand free and raised his middle and index finger, “Scouts honor, big buy.” 

Emboldened by the promise the kid straightened his back and brushed the curls from his forehead before reaching his hand out between the two of them waiting for Booker to shake his hand, “My name is Nicolò di Genova and I remember you from when I was big.” 

O~oO~0~Oo~O 

He wasn’t even sure the words tumbling from his mouth were making any kind of sense as he paced back and forth, his hands flailing wildly as tried to process what _Nicolò_ had just told him. 

It was crazy! 

Out of the realm of any kind of realistic possibility! 

This was bonkers, even for them. This had to be some kind of plot by Kozak, some kind of...of new cruel and inhumane torture meant to break him. Bringing in some random kid to _pretend_ to be his brother in arms- _to what_? Mentally break him? 

A strained keening sound rumbled from him as Booker ran a hand through his hair - which he tried to ignore how much longer it was now than it had been just hours earlier - and looked heavenward, the fluorescent lights glaring down on him and judging him for his current freak-out. 

“You promised you wouldn’t be mad!” Nicolò shouted annoyed, his tiny voice high and childish and grating against his already fragile sensibility. 

“I’m not mad!” Booker hollered at the same time he turned sharply to the figure on his bed, wincing when he saw Nicolò look at him with wide eyes, the kids bottom lip trembling. 

“You sound mad.” 

Regardless if this was just some random kid or truly a miniaturized Nicolò, he had to remind himself it wasn’t the kids fault. He took a deep breath and willed every muscle in his body to relax, before repeating. “I’m not mad. I’m just confused. Écoute, mon garçon, c'est de la folie.” 

“Désolé.” Nicolò murmured, little hands picking at imaginary lint on the bed. 

“It’s not your fault, Nico.” Booker said with a sigh, making his way to the bed to sit beside the kid, resting a hand against Nicolò’s knee. “What do you remember before being, _you know?_ Downsized...” 

“You don’t believe me.” Nicolò said incredulously, crossing his arms with a pout. 

“I believe you,” Because this was too crazy to not be true, “but I need more information. What happened before you were here?” 

“I don’t know.” Nicolò answered with a shrug. “All I remember was Yusuf and me and Nile and Andy were at Copley’s doing recon for this mission in Peru and then BOOM!” Nicolò shouted, moving his hands to mimic an explosion his little chubby cheeks puffed out and eyes wide. 

Booker winced at the loud shout, “Sounds scary.” 

“Mmmhmm, it was! But Yusuf was amazing!” Nicolò exclaimed, little legs hopping up to stand on the bed, “He held off all the mean old people, Yusuf gave them a big old _hyah!_ ” Nicolò shouted, moving to kick his pretend enemy, “And then I came up behind them and I hit them back with a huge _wham!_ ” His words accentuated by his fist slicing through the air. 

“And then what happened?” He hated to ask it but he needed to know what he was dealing with here. He needed to know who else Kozak was holding captive in this shithole. 

“Then nothing.” Nicolò whispered, falling to his knees with a sniff. “I recall Yusuf screaming for me. I… I thought I heard Copley yelling but I am unsure. I woke up with Kozak standing over me and then a very large amount of pain, it felt as though every bone in my body was both being broken and healing at the very same time, it was a very unpleasant sensation.” 

Booker clenched his hands, recalling his own pain at the hands of Kozak and unable to imagine this tiny version of Nicky being in such a tortuous situation. “Where was Joe?” He couldn’t imagine Joe would have willingly left Nicky by his lonesome. 

“He wasn’t there when I finally woke up. It took me a few hours to slip my bindings but when I finally did I heard someone howling in agony.” Nicolò explained, voice sounding tired. “I made my way into the vents, there are two other rooms on either side of you, by the way. One has Copley in it, I think? It looked like him anyways.” 

“And the other?” Booker questioned, mind already working to form some sort of half-assed plan to get them out. 

“I believe it to hold Yusuf. I would have checked but you sounded like you needed me more.” Nicolò said, green eyes peering up hesitantly at Booker, almost like he was waiting to be reprimanded for saving him instead of Joe. 

_God this was so messed up._

“Okay,” He started, moving to stand and peer around the room, the half beginnings of a plan starting to come together. “Okay, you need to get back up into the vent, see if Joe is in the other room and if possible shove his ass up there with you and then come back here. I’ll gather whatever we can use for weapons and then we’ll go from there, okay?” 

Booker nodded when Nicky gave him a thumbs up before the little guy moved towards the head of the bed and then stopped, he saw Nicky look up at the ventilation shaft in annoyance before he turned back towards him, cheeks red as he sheepishly asked, “Can you help me?” 

Booker swallowed against the lump in his throat and nodded, moving quickly to help boost Nicky up into the ventilation shaft. He hated the way his chest ached as he watched Nicky’s small form crawl out of sight. A thousand different possible scenarios racing through his mind, each one more nefarious than the last at what could happen to the kid; but he couldn’t think like that, Nicky might be a tiny wisp of a thing but he was still just as smart and resourceful as ever. 

He swung his gaze from the vent to the door of his room with a sigh. He had to trust Nicky to be careful. While he knew Nicky had served in multiple armies and knew more ways to take down an opponent than most people could ever hope to, this tiny version was a wild card. 

He heaved a deep breath and moved to the cabinets of the room to scrounge for any items he could use for defense. He’d be ready for when Nicky returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> French Used:  
> Putain de merde - I have actually seen this mean either Holy Shit or Fucking Hell...and honestly both work here, lol.  
> Écoute, mon garçon, c'est de la folie - Listen, kid, this is crazy.  
> Désolé - Sorry
> 
> I'm hoping to be able to read through and edit the next chapter by the end of the weekend and as always thank you everyone who has left kudos, bookmarked, and subbed!


	3. Way Down We Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicolò finds Yusuf, now if only his husband would believe him to be who he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nicky's POV and a wild Yusuf appears! Woot! Also, how else do you expect to confirm a tiny bean cherub baby is your husband than by asking about the many varied embarrassing deaths that have happened to the two of you over the years.
> 
> Read through this morning and changed a few things so any mistakes please let me know.

Nicolò crawled forward, his hands sweaty and slipping against the smooth metal of the ventilation shaft. He felt so very tired and he hated it. Hated that this body of his was unable to keep up with the physical demands he needed it to. He stopped to rest his aching arms and leaned back against the side of the duct work, his eyes slipping closed in exhaustion against his will. The quiet moment of rest seemed to be all the acceptance his body needed to start acting against him.

Nicolò felt the familiar warmth of tears sting his eyes and his lower lip begin to tremble. The phantom ache of his bones breaking and the stress of his muscles and tendons stretching and contracting making his skin crawl and causing tears soak his lashes. He clenched his eyes tight and tried his very best not to cry but the overwhelming need to release all the pent up emotion had him sniffing and scrubbing at his face to try and stop the sobs. 

Ever since he woke up alone and tied down to that awful gurney in that dreadful room, he’d been so frantic with worry for his family - worry for Yusuf, Nile, and Copley, and utter terror for Andy and her newfound frailty - that he hadn’t had a chance to deal with everything that had transpired against him. He could remember - at least he thought so - the ordeal before he awoke, the bomb going off at Copley’s and vague impressions of Kozak hurting him but it was like looking at everything through a lens of nostalgia, the memories less vivid and the corresponding emotions muted and distant. Almost like it had happened to someone else and he was just a bystander to all the happenings. 

Everything just felt very disjointed and out of place. His body didn’t want to cooperate with what he needed it to do, fingers too stubby, legs and arms too short, and his mind so easily overwhelmed by the slightest of things that it was hard to focus. He was a very logical person and knew that everything he was feeling was just his mind unable to cope and that had he been his bigger self he would be brave and fearless and not sitting in a ventilation shaft blubbering like a babe! 

He did not like being this tiny person! 

He was a warrior, a fighter! He had to be strong for Booker, who was waiting for him, he had to be courageous in light of everything for Yusuf who was most likely scared and alone and just as worried and frightened as he had been just hours before. He would be valiant for Nile and Andy who were depending on him to get his family to safety! 

He huffed a deep breath and snuffled, blinking his eyes open with new determination before he shoved himself forward and looked towards the faint shadow of lines and soft light down the darkened duct showing him where the next room was located. 

He rubbed his snotty nose against his oversized white shirt and, with a new resolve towards his situation, kept going. Booker was counting on him and he couldn’t let his little brother down again. 

He grunted in distress when a sudden drop had him gripping the metal walls while he shimmied over the darkened shaft that dropped down to the levels below. He quickly raced towards the next ventilation shaft and peeked through the slats, looking down into the room below to see a figure struggling on the same type of bed he’d found Booker on. 

He took a chance and quietly called, “Yusuf?” 

He was rewarded with the figure stilling and jerking their head to stare up towards him. Nicolo gasped in surprise at the set of dark, angry eyes peering up at him. They were familiar, the same deep mahogany that shone with such passion anytime Yusuf spoke; but, at the same time they were _different_. The rings of darkened curls that he used to love to run his fingers through were much shorter and the sides of his head closer shaven and the scruffy beard he’d adored, gone. The freckles that used to be light and peppered across the bridge of his nose were more prominent and added to the youthful appearance. But he knew this was Yusuf, he was sure of it! 

“Who’s there?” 

Nicolò bit his lip at the higher toned voice that drifted into his hiding spot, longing for the normally deep timbre that would rumble forth from his beloved’s passionate lips. 

“Stop playing these games and show yourself, you wretch!” 

Nicolò worked at the tiny screw holes that held the vent grate together, popping the cover off and angling the cover through the hole before setting it off to the side of him, he looked down at Yusuf with a hesitant smile. “ _I didn’t mean to scare you, dear heart._ ” 

Their shared tongue had Yusuf cursing and tugging once more in fervor against his bonds, “Kozak, you wench! You cannot fathom a more horrid torture so you send a child to do your dirty work! When I free myself, you will long for something as sweet as the touch of death's hand!” 

Nicolò had to smother his giggles at the squeaky high pitched threat, his hands plastered against his mouth, afraid that if the sound echoed down to Yusuf he’d only enrage his already worked up husband. 

“Your father was a loathly milksop who copulated with a syphilitic goat!” 

He couldn’t help it, the mere idea that Kozak was born of an idiot man and a disease ridden animal had him laughing so hard his belly hurt. Yusuf was a man of many words and a man of passion, his way with language was unrivaled by even the philosophers of old but his insults tended to the vulgar and were oftentimes a comedic affair that always had amused him. 

“I am so pleased my pain is amusing to you.” 

Nicolò wiped his tearful eyes and sobered, “ _Your pain is never amusing to me, my love._ ” 

As careful as he could be, Nicolò jumped down from the vent, nearly missing the head of the bed. He set to work unbuckling the straps around Yusuf’s wrist and chest before moving down to do the same to the straps around the other man’s ankles trying to ignore how much bigger Yusuf was compared to him yet how much smaller Yusuf still was in contrast to his bigger self. Another odd thing he had trouble with, knowing this was Yusuf but looking at the prepubescent boy- how old was his love anyways, 11...12? - before him and seeing a stranger with Yusuf’s features. 

“Stop speaking in that language, it’s not yours to speak.” 

Nicolò looked up at that, eyes wide and confused as he undid the last strap that held Yusuf captive, did his love not look at him and see his other half just different as he did? “ _Of course it is mine to speak!_ ” 

“It is not!” Yusuf shouted, his voice cracking as he shoved himself from the bed in a need to move. “That is a private tongue! Meant for no one but the two people who know it!” 

Nicolò blinked slowly as it finally dawned on him that Yusuf truly didn’t know who he was, he swallowed thickly and looked down at his tiny body. They’d been together almost a thousand years, his husband should know him even when he wasn’t himself, right? 

“ _Yusuf, it’s me, Nicolò._ ” He knew the reaction was coming but it still stung when Yusuf reared back as if scalded by his words. He hated himself just a little in that moment for hoping that Yusuf would know him, perhaps his body was _too_ different, too many years away from his other self to be recognizable. 

“A good try, little one; but Nicolò is a man of distinction, whose kindness and warmth radiates from a soul so gentle-.” 

Nicolò couldn’t help the eye roll at Yusuf’s poetic rhetoric, “You speak too generously of a man who has killed you many times in cold blood.” 

Yusuf crossed his arms offended, “And you speak too devilishly for someone who knows nothing of-” 

He scuffed at that, his anger getting the best of him. He loved his husband but sometimes...“Oh come off it, use that very big and very beautiful brain of yours. I may have lost a few years,” He glared at Yusuf’s indignant snort, “okay, quite a few years but I am still me.” 

Yusuf gave another derisive snort and looked off towards the wall across the room, ignoring him. 

“You don’t believe me?” He stamped his foot demanding the other boys attention. He waited till Yusuf looked back at him and dared, “Test me.” 

“Cairo, 1430.” Yusuf stated without missing a beat. 

The niggling of a memory was there, he vaguely remembered being in Cairo around that time but Nicolò was unsure of what exactly he was supposed to be remembering. He and Yusuf had traveled to the city at the behest of Andromache and Quynh because there had been sickness and death ravaging the land. They hadn’t done anything particularly special while there - at least he couldn’t recall anything - no anniversaries to have celebrated at the time, no significant birthdays, just lots of blood and gore and, oh… 

How could he have forgotten! He had never been so embarrassed. “Andy and Quynh made fun of us because we caught the plague there - _twice_ and died, twice.” 

“Yes, but the second death?” Yusuf questioned, the smirk tugging at the boys lips dared him to continue. His love could be a cruel man sometimes. 

Nicolò blushed and cleared his throat, gaze lowering to the floor as he murmured, “I had died of a heart attack when…” Did he really have to say it, it was very humiliating. 

“Wheeennn?” Yusuf drawed out, gleefully. 

“When you pulled your breeches off and I became too excited and my heart gave out! Goodness, Yusuf!” He stamped his foot in annoyance, fingers curling tightly as he looked back up. “If we are testing each other on our embarrassing deaths - how about Dublin, 1792, yes? When we were celebrating our anniversary and you died in the middle of sex from a nosebleed, of all things!” 

“It was a brain hemorrhage!” Yusuf defended, cheeks deepening a pretty crimson color, from embarrassment of anger, Nicolò couldn’t be sure. 

“It was not! Andy said you just came so hard that-” Nicolò was cut off by Yusuf bounding forward and slapping a hand over his mouth demanding him to be silent. He wasn’t sure what made him do it, some sort of impulsivity that he’d blame on his new status as a tiny person but he licked Yusuf’s palm in pettiness. 

Yusuf hissed and jerked his hand back, shaking the appendage with a look of disgust. 

Nicolò heaved a breath so big his shoulders moved with him, “Oh come off it you have had worse bodily fluids-” 

He had to shake his head when Yusuf clapped both his hands over his ears to block out any further words. “I do not need to be hearing these types of things coming out of the mouth of a child, miniaturized version of my husband or not!” 

“So you believe me then?” Nicolò pointed out with a grin, rocking on his heels in glee as if he had won something. 

Yusuf was saved from answering by the blaring sound of what sounded like a foghorn ricocheting through the room. Nicolò winced from the sound and unknowingly stepped closer to Yusuf, relieved when his husband reached a hand out to push him to the safety of his back. He looked up to see Yusuf glancing about the room for the reason for the sudden disturbance. 

”What’s happening?” 

He could guess. It probably had to do with their younger - _older_ \- brother on the other side of the wall next to them. “I have one guess and it’s currently in the room next to you.” Nicolò replied, peeking out from behind the safety of Yusuf’s back, gaze fixated on the door. “We should go before someone comes to check on you.” 

Something slammed against the metal door to the room causing the both of them to jump from the unexpectedness of the harsh grating sound. 

“ _Fuck_ ” 

Something raw and low rumbled from his throat at Yusuf's curse. A thread of dread wrapping around his chest and cinching tight causing his breath to stutter in worry. 

Another harsh bang to the door had Yusuf shoving him back and situating them so that he was completely hidden by Yusuf’s taller form, out of sight from anyone who would make their way through the door. Not how it was supposed to be! He was supposed to be the protector, it's why he slept snuggled within Yusuf's embrace he was always supposed to be between Joe and the wolves at the door! Ever since... 

Another grating shock of metal scratching metal hit the door interrupting his thoughts as a haunting silence settled over the room. Their harsh breathing loud in the quiet of the room and only broken by the sound of the lock disengaging from the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter won't be till next week I have to work this weekend and wont be able to sit down and read through and edit anything till Monday at the earliest.
> 
> Thank you all for commenting, leaving kudo's, subbing and bookmarking definitely keeps me going!


	4. Who wants to live forever?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “ _Amazing._ ” He winced at a particularly agonizing jolt ricocheted up his arms from his fingers, he flinched back when Kozak ran a reverent hand along his thigh, her fingers dancing against his naked limb, the awestruck expression on her face had his stomach grinding against itself in sickness, Copley barely had time to turn his head before the water from earlier made its miraculous reappearance, saturating the pillow beneath him and splattering onto the floor below.
> 
> “Shh-shh.” Kozak whispered soothingly, her hand moving to rub gentle circles against his abdomen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter mainly focuses on Copley and what has been going on with him but next chapter our team should start coming together, yay! 
> 
> Also apparently I never gave Copley clothes during this so yes, he's running about nekkid... oops!
> 
> Happy reading!

“What’s that?” Nile asks in concern, moving out from behind Andy to stare at the computer sitting innocently beside the laptop on Copley’s desk. There was a tiny beeping noise emitting from the screens speakers and a red light flashing on the bottom right from where a video feed of a wooded section of property was being displayed.

“A proximity alarm.” Copley explained, face scrunched in confusion, making his way to stand beside Nile, his gaze searching the camera feed to see what could have possibly set the alarm off but nothing grabbed his attention, everything seemed calm. 

Nicky and Joe looked towards Andy when the woman shifted to lean over Nile, arms crossed as she looked down at the screen. “You have a proximity alarm?” 

“Considering the company I keep...” Copley explained, typing a few commands to bring up the video feed outside his home to double check something wasn’t amiss. “Yes.” 

“Could an animal have set it off?” 

Copley looked towards Nile with a shake of his head, “No, I have trail cams for animals, this is set to differentiate between animal and human motion and it concerns me that it has triggered but I don’t see anything.” 

“Nicky, Joe.” Andy called out, nodding towards their bags splayed out on the kitchen table. “Perimeter check, yeah?” 

Nicky nodded, “On it, boss.” 

Copley watched the two men grab their swords from the table - Nicky clipping the broadsword around his waist while Joe swung his scimitar around his shoulders to hang comfortably between his shoulder blades - and then pick up a hand gun each, both double checking the clip before making their way towards the door. 

Between one breath and the next, a loud explosion rocked the side of the house. Copley screamed when a solid beam of steel slammed into his side, sending him crashing into the table and crushing the security monitor underneath his back, the beam pinning him unforgivably to the mess under him. A shriek tore through the ringing in his ears and it took a second for him to realize that the sound was coming from him - the sound seeming to have brought him back to awareness. There something bright and painful erupting white hot from his chest, he could feel a crackle in his lung that rattled with every breath he took - the heady taste of copper strong against the back of his mouth. 

“Nicky!” Copley blinked at the shout and turned to see Joe slamming the butt of his gun into a darkened form, his free hand reaching for his sword and swiftly swinging the blade to slice the throat of his enemy, only to be swarmed by two more men. “Fuck, Nicky!? Nile get Andy out of- _shit!_ ” 

Something crackled in the air, Copley blinked slowly, he watched Joe scream against _something_ , the frayed edges of his vision darkening and as Joe fell to his knees Copley’s lids fell too, his eyes closing just as Joe fell hard against the rubble, the poor man's head bouncing off shattered concrete and plaster. 

O~oO~o~Oo~O 

A scream tore itself from his lungs when something shifted in his chest, his trembling arms shooting forward to strike at whatever was causing the pain. A warmth wrapped around his flailing limbs and pinned them down. Copley whimpered against the pain radiating from his chest and achingly ricocheting through his body, muscles protesting when he tried to curl away from the hurt only to be stopped by something rigid and unyielding. He blinked his eyes open, the flaring white of artificial light burning against his overly sensitive retinas. 

Copley groaned and rolled his head to the side, a blurry figure dressed in periwinkle standing next to him, the person caught him staring, the unknown blob of color said something before heat raced through his veins leaving behind lead in the wake of the spreading warmth, weighing his body down and pulling at his consciousness. He let his eyes drift closed, he was too tired to try and fight against the weight and warmth of whatever he’d been dosed with. 

O~oO~o~Oo~O 

A cold hand against the fire burning across his skin had Copley blinking open sleep heavy lashes. 

“Shit! I thought you adjusted the dosage!” 

Copley strained to keep his eyes open staring at the dark haired man leaning over him, he focused on the wrinkled forehead of the person and the dark amber colored eyes peering at him from behind a pair of safety glasses. 

“Put him back under, now!” A sharp tongued voice shouted from somewhere off to his right. The voice was melodic and heavy, a woman’s voice he was sure, a voice that niggled at his memory - he knew that voice, he thought as a numbing cold slithered like a snake up his arm to wrap cottony soft around his mind and the world drifted into darkness once more. 

O~oO~o~Oo~O 

When awareness returned, some finite time later when whatever narcotic they had given him had run its course, the first thing Copley noticed was the quiet muffled conversation off to the side of him. He licked at his lips trying to ease the stinging pain of the chapped skin but his mouth was so dry that it did nothing but irritate the agitated skin. His head lolled against the pillow, trying and failing to get enough breath into his lungs to ask what had happened but all he managed was a throaty croak. 

The soft chatter abruptly ended at the pathetic sound. The voices replaced with the soft sound of rubber soled shoes against tile. Copley hissed when fingers tugged at his eyelid and shone an unforgiving light into his eyes. 

“Pupils are responding normally.” 

Copley blinked his eyes open at the male voice, his unasked question sitting on the tip of his tongue but mouth to dry to voice it. 

“Good Morning, James.” A woman’s voice, he noted, greeted. The man beside him brought a cup to his lips and pushed a straw against his closed mouth, he pulled back, unsure. “It’s just water,” The woman continued, “I imagine after an ordeal such as yours, you are most likely quite parched.” 

Copley opened his mouth and sipped hesitantly at the straw but once the cool rush of cold water hit his parched mouth, he greedily sucked at the liquid until the straw and cup were pulled away his head trying to chase after the quenching water. 

“You can have more later.” The woman explained and Copley finally turned to stare down at the foot of his bed to see a disheveled blonde woman looking through papers on a clipboard. 

“K.. _Kozak?_ ” It couldn’t be, hadn’t Nile dispatched the woman? He was sure that the doctor had perished along with the rest of Merrick’s men. Had he missed something? 

“ _Hmmm_. Seems like you are doing quite well, responding magnificently to the treatment regimen we have you on.” 

He swallowed nervously when Kozak looked up from the clipboard with a smile that gave an almost feral look to her angular features. “Amazingly well. In fact, I want to give you another dose just to make sure but if all goes well, James? You may be my proof of concept.” 

“Proof…” He cleared his throat and tried to move into a more comfortable position but winced at the sharp bite of fabric against his exposed skin keeping him still. “Proof of concept?” 

Kozak just smiled, tilting her head to the side lazily as she nodded to the man beside him. 

“Wait.” Copley pleaded, trying to catch the man’s attention, pulling against the straps pinning him down, “Wait!” He shouted when the man dispensed something orange into his IV, he tried to pull his hand back but it was too late, the aching fire from before reignited from the IV port in his arm. He screamed against the feeling of his bones breaking, his joints cracking and shifting unrelenting even as his pleas for the torture to end went unanswered. 

“Be grateful James, you are a gift to the world, _priceless._ ” Kozak whispered, the shadows from the room falling over the woman and distorting her features into something demonic and nightmarish. 

_Demon._ His mind supplied. 

Copley swallowed a cry of anguish, wishing his body would take pity on him and allow him the peace of unconsciousness but when another jarring crack reverberated up from his leg, he had to accept that the bleak arms of nothingness would not be welcoming him into its numbing embrace. 

“ _Amazing._ ” He winced at a particularly agonizing jolt ricocheted up his arms from his fingers, he flinched back when Kozak ran a reverent hand along his thigh, her fingers dancing against his naked limb, the awestruck expression on her face had his stomach grinding against itself in sickness, Copley barely had time to turn his head before the water from earlier made its miraculous reappearance, saturating the pillow beneath him and splattering onto the floor below. 

“Shh-shh.” Kozak whispered soothingly, her hand moving to rub gentle circles against his abdomen. 

Copley hated himself for leaning into the slight show of comfort, his eyes slowly slipping closed as the pain lessened to an annoying ache, his breath rushing out of him in relief. He just wanted to sleep. 

“Keep an eye on him, 24 hour observation and if it appears all is well, I want the woman prepped and ready for treatment. I have another patient to attend to.” 

_Woman?_ Copley questioned silently fighting against the lulling promise of sleep. 

“What about the other two?” 

_other...two?_

“If this turns out to be a success, I want the vault prepped and ready for their arrival. As Merrick said we can let them fall into our competitors hands not till we have our patent and…” 

Kozak’s voice fell away into silence as sleep finally blanketed his consciousness. 

O~oO~o~Oo~O 

_JAMES!_

Copley shot up at the phantom shout of his name, breath harsh and unforgiving in its expanding of his chest. He shoved against the sheet wrapped around his naked form, his eyes wild as he roamed the room looking for Kozak and the male doctor that had tormented him. When the two appeared to be absent from the room, Copley sagged in relief, running a shaky hand over his face and scrubbing at his tired-gritty eyes. 

He took a couple of ragged breaths before letting his hands fall away from his face. He blinked in confusion bringing his hands back up, turning them over a few times to stare skeptically at the deceptively smooth skin. He turned from his hands to stare down at his legs, the limbs long and lean not those of a man in forties but more reminiscent of someone in their prime. 

“What in the...?” Copley murmured, perplexed. His hands moved to roam the expanse of his exposed skin, taking in the more defined muscles and the shadow of abs peeking out from beneath the taut skin of his stomach. A breathy laugh escaped him, his body sliding from the bed, he jumped a few times, taking pleasure in the fact his knee was pain free and able to move through the motion, he hopped a few more times in place, smiling like a kid who had just received the worlds greatest gift. 

He looked back towards his bed, noticing the restraints dangling from the structure and sobered, the novelty of his situation quickly dissipating as the weight of his current situation dawned on him. He needed to get out of here and find the others, he reminded himself. Kozak’s haunting words about the vault spurring him forward towards the cabinets of the room, hands grabbing anything that looked useful, alcohol rub, tincture of benzoin, ointments, dressings anything and everything that he could find remotely useful he grabbed and chucked onto the bed. 

He bit his lip and looked around once more, gaze fixating on the IV pole, his eyes looking up and down the pole, coming to a decision. He made quick work of smashing the pole against the heart monitor that had been beside his bed. Copley threw the pole away and worked to pull wires from the demolished screen. 

He worked quickly, opening the bottles of medicine and alcohol and shoving wound dressings into the liquid before using the wires of the monitor to strike against the soaked gauze. It took a few strikes but finally the white fibers caught fire. Copley grinned and looked up towards the smoke detector before he chucked one of his makeshift molotov cocktails at the tiny object. In seconds the alcohol splattered across the ceiling and quickly caught fire, the flames spreading to engulf the alcohol soaked ceiling. 

The sound of the fire alarm blaring like a foghorn on the shore startled him and had him covering his ears from the loud sound. 

Copley winced and forced himself to uncover his ears and reach for the remaining burning medicinal bottles, eyes never leaving the door to his room. The smoke continued to fill the small space and had him coughing from the burn of the acrid fumes. 

Time seemed to speed up around him when the sound of the lock on his door disengaged, he hunkered back against his bed, arms at the ready; as soon as the door opened he chucked the flaming medical bottles at the men entering his room, watching the bottles burst on impact and the flames swiftly spreading to engulf the clothes of his captors. 

Copley swiftly grabbed the IV pole and ran screaming at the door knocking into the burning men and forcing them back into the hall. He swung the pole and knocked the feet out from underneath one of the men before bringing the pole around to slam into the gut of the other man, striking the pole downwards with killing force. He looked up to see more security detail heading down the hallway, Copley cursed and took off in the other direction, stopping after a few steps when something grazed against his arm and embedded itself in the door to the side of him. 

“Freeze! Drop the Pole!” 

Copley slowly held his arms out to the side and dropped the IV pole, the metal hitting the floor with a hollow thunk. 

“On your knees, now!” 

Copley flinched at the shout but did as he was told and slowly lowered himself to his knees, “I believe there has been some sort of misunderstanding, gentlemen.” 

“Quiet! Alpha 1-2 to base, fire has been put out and suspect is currently being apprehended.”” 

When the air behind him warmed and he felt fabric brush against his bare back, Copley brought an arm up to clip the unknown attacker in the chin before he turned and slammed his palm into the man’s Adam's apple, he caught the man as the guy fell forward gagging and gasping for air and struggling to scrabble against his throat. 

Copley grabbed the side arm from the man’s holster and aimed quickly shooting two of the security men in the head before a shot rang out and ripped through the side of his thigh, knocking him back into the door with a clang and causing him to drop his human shield. 

“Shit!” With a hiss Copley turned to the door to stare at the keypad to the room, firing at the pad just as shot rang out from behind him, Copley felt a searing pain in his chest as the door fell open and he tumbled forward into the room to the wide eye stares of two shocked kids. With the last of his energy Copley turned and kicked the door closed, the breath leaving his lungs with a whoosh and the world spiralling around him. 

And then… 

_Nothing_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last of what I have prewrote (prewritten-?, why so hard English?) so updates might take a little longer because I want to finish my one shot series and I really need to finish my next chapter of Blood and Chocolate; but, the muse is strong with this story right now and I might just plow through and finish this one and go back to the others, lol.
> 
> As always y'all are amazing and I appreciate every review, kudo, bookmark, and sub, it makes me insanely happy to know others like my word vomit, hee~!


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